the week that was, and/or wasn’t…
MON, TUE, WED,
Last week I was fighting off a bug or something and feeling like junk, it’s weird but it seems to take more out of me to fight off a virus than to actually get sick with one. Just one of many joys that go along with an abhorrently malfunctioning immune system. I had sporadic fevers, sore ears, sore throat, sore tonsil and generally ached all over. By Wednesday I think the virus was winning and my body actually needed to shut down all ‘elective’ activities in order to keep fighting. In other words, I spent more time asleep than awake for about 36 hours. Wednesday went:
6:30 press snooze
6:40 press snooze
6:50 press snooze
7:00 press snooze
7:10 haul lifeless body into upright position and proceed with school morning routine
8:15 walk children to school
8:45 die a little bit, sleep
10ish do a load of washing, hang it, sleep
12ish eat a piece of food, do another load of washing, hang it, sleep
2:30 repeat hauling of body into upright position in order to pick children up
3:30 sleep
And so on and so forth. Fortunately I’d been given the week off from (prac)work, though I had planned to go in on Friday, just cause I’m a sucker for working for no pay and surrounding myself with noisy nine-year olds whom I adore and despise in equal measures.
THURSDAY
By Thursday though, I was in full fledged run-away-from-home mode and upon hearing that Titch’s all-important Friday swimming lesson was cancelled and that an epic outbreak of whooping cough had gripped the entire Year one community, I was ready to follow through and do a runner. I had planned to catch the train to the city Saturday morning anyways, so why not go a day early and have extra time to laze by the pool and reprimand ‘trusty’ for failing to notice/care/remember/comprehend that I was sick? I checked with said sidekick and he reported back that he had a work thing on, but that we were welcome to hang out at his place, and so… the great escape was on. To follow came a frantic house-clean, find cat sitter and bag-pack x3 which put a fairly large dent in the romanticism of the whole running away thing, but hey, I like to be organised. All this happened as surreptitiously as possible because having a day off school and catching the train to the city was to be a Great Fantastical Surprise for the children. Thursday afternoon I bribed them into joining the frenzied house-clean by promising to reveal a special clue to the great fantastical surprise (shut up, I’m reading the Da Vinci Code ok?) which worked a treat. The first clue was that they needed to go to bed early and have a big sleep, as they would need to do some special training before they could have the surprise! Titch was all into it, and went off to bed wondering what sort of training was involved and how on earth she could fit it in with a hectic full day of school ahead. Lil was off in Laa-Laa-Land, oblivious to the whole secret-clue-fantastical-surprise scenario. Sometimes it’s best just to keep things simple and not overload her mind or mess with her routine.
FRIDAY
Friday morning I woke at 4 and woke the children at 4:30. I mysteriously whispered… The second clue is – you must rise with the sun” Titch was tickled pink with the elusiveness of it all, while Lil sat up sleepily and said “what clues?” Titch explained all and Lil said right away – “oh, easy, we’re going on the train. We’re up early and there is special ‘training’ –get it?’ That girl surprises me sometimes. They both really enjoyed being up so early and seeing their first ever sunrise though. The train trip went very well and both girls stunned me by insisting on doing school work –it was a school day after all- so I gave them a maths and spelling test each. I tailor made the maths test for each of them, but Titch insisted on choosing the spelling words:
cat, truck, students, admire, doughnuts, approximate, chemical, sensations, occasions, vacations, oviparous.
They both were chuffed to get good marks all round, though titch was disappointed with her spelling result – she had used ‘ai’ for the ‘a’ vowel sounds, as in ‘occaision, vacaition’ etc. I explained that it was still an extremely good result for a first grader and that Lil and I both were unsure how to spell oviparous and could she please tell us what it means? – which she did. They then went on to do some reading and some drawing with Lil also practising her German very loudly, trying to impress the bi-lingual-tourist-children who boarded the train and sat opposite. Titch has been picking up german from Lil and finds it all slightly amusing (who can blame her?) She set about drawing ‘Opa’s and Oma’s’ –that’s grandfathers and grandmothers in german, but to her also just very amusing words. Her Opa’s and Oma’s are strange objects with very unusual names such as Figureins, Cokstump and Rampst. (I caught myself this morning cursing ebay and calling it a cokstump under my breath)
On arrival, I immediately realised we could never make it to sidekick’s office before his morning meeting and would have to amuse ourselves in the city for a bit – hotcakes, hashbrowns and shopping ensued! Do you know how much fun it is to put an 11 year old in time out in the middle of a city department store? The answer is lots. Titch is a bit of nuisance to shop with, mostly because she hates it, but Lil is infuriating! I know it’s her aspieness that causes her brain to overload with stimuli rendering her incapable of rational thought, but really, at 11 I do expect her to be able to #1 listen and #2 stay with me. The time out came after the third major losing-child incident (she was off trying on shoes in the ladies department and completely oblivious to the fact that she was no longer with me) She also incurred a time out in department store no.2 during which an elderly woman bent down to look at something and farted both noisily and smell-ily in Lil’s general direction, at which point I decided her karma was taken care of and let her up.
finally, we met the sidekick at his office to get the keys and go home to commence the pool-lazing. This is when I discovered that his after-work-do was actually an after-lunch-do and, although it would still involve boozing, he might be home at the regular time or even earlier, which would be nice. We talked dinner and went our separate ways …… (insert that horror-movie music which suggests that everything is about to go very badly for the characters involved though they don’t realise it yet, like instead of fleeing the haunted house they are climbing the stairs to the attic thereby trapping themselves and allowing all manner of horror to arise in the foreseeable future)
We lunched, rested, and pool lazed in that order. Which was nice:) NEWSFLASH – titch can swim!! She has had two lessons so far at school and this was my first chance to witness her expertise as she doggy-paddled the width of the pool with minimal drowning. I’m tempted to upload video but also painfully aware that no one finds it as exciting and tear jerking as mama.
We’d bought a bunch of vegies for dinner (have I mentioned before that my trusty sidekick is also a vege-matarian?) and I got started on a creamy-vegie-cheesy baked concoction that I was sure would be a hit all round. Word came from the man himself at about 5:30 that he would be heading home soon which appealed to my secretly well-hidden housewife-ish side as it meant we could have dinner together like a real life family, put the children to bed and live happily ever after, right?
By 7:30 I was actually a bit worried and in a complete quandary. I couldn’t hold off feeding the starving children any longer, yet ‘trusty’ (the name is wearing thin) wasn’t home. I was fairly certain that his boozy do had been extended, but what if it hadn’t and he’d met with foul play on the way home? What to do – phone him during the boozery to ask where he was and when he was coming home, therefore labelling myself forever more as the nagging girlfriend? Or just wait and see…risking his certain death as he lay bleeding and broken in the gutter somewhere? Amidst all this, his mother called (I only answered the phone thinking it would be the police or hospital or something equally dramatic) she rattled my already rattled nerves by 1.forgetting my name, 2.assuming I would be at lunch on Sunday, 3.giving me a message to pass on to trusty and insisting that I get him to call her back when he got home to make sure I had given him the message and 4.asking me where he was, what time he would be home and doing a motherly ‘hmmm…I see’ at my ignorance.
I decided that if he were not home by 8, I would swallow my pride and phone – better to sound like a nagging girlfriend than to let him die in the gutter, right? …right? as per usual (we’re weird like this) a message arrived just as I picked up my phone – he was leaving now. So by 8:30 I had the children tucked into bed, all fed, and was reading them a bedtime story as the man walked in, fly undone! and very ‘merry’ to say the least, stinking of beer and promptly lay down to pass out to my bedtime story.
Once the children were off to sleep, we went upstairs to fight. (which, might I add, neither of us really knows how to do and usually involves some quiet mis-communication whilst cuddling in which nothing is resolved)
I must say, I’m still struggling with this one. (I’ve admitted before I’m useless at relationships and have no idea how they work or how to drive one) Struggling because…
1. I’ve had years of experience in phone counselling with nameless others who were left at home wondering where on earth their man was and my advice was always generally of the ‘don’t put up with that shite’ variation with suggestions of cruel and unusual punishments for the men involved when they finally bothered to show their faces.
2. Sidekick himself has previously agreed with me that the above scenario was ‘not on’ and that the women involved should put their tiny foots down.
3. The mere fact that he would put his own and his booze-colleagues needs before mine gives me the heebie-bajeebies and my gut instinct is to RUN! I mean, really, is it so difficult to pick up the phone and say ‘I won’t be home for a while yet, I’ve been coerced into some further boozery’? After all, I wasn’t upset that he was out in the first place, just that he didn’t show up when he said he would, leaving me in a difficult position and feeling like an idiot.
4. I’m outraged to discover that the boozery involved a conversation along the lines of “im so in trouble with the wife/girlfriend for this, I’m sleeping on the couch tonight for sure” which the man himself seemed to find incredibly amusing. WHAT? so I get pegged as the nagging girlfriend whether I nag or not – that hardly seems fair. Being single is starting to look oh so attractive again. I’m not sure if sidekick thought
a) that it was fun to be in a nifty club where you get into so much trouble for this
b) that it was no big deal to leave me wondering for hours
c) that phoning me might result in copping a proper nagging
d) all of the above OR
e) nothing at all which I know his mind is quite capable of -for he would have to think beyond his own immediate wants and needs in order to contemplate what I might be feeling.
5. This is more proof for my ongoing hypothesis that Sidekick has a ‘hierarchy of importance’ when it comes to people. In the grand scheme of things I generally come somewhere down the list from family members, acquaintances and work colleagues and generally anything I say or suggest is questionable until checked with a ‘more reliable source’. Therefore some drunken arm-twisting work buddies rank higher than me in the grand scheme of things despite the fact that I was at that very point in time at his home, mopping his kitchen floor, cooking a lovely cheesy-dinner and, might I add, wearing some very nice underthings and all whilst NOT WANTING TO INTERRUPT HIS BOOZE TIME WITH ANY AMOUNT OF CHECKING-UP ON OR NAGGING!
Do I scream DOORMAT or what?
because afterall, I was in town for a fun weekend and it’s a bit difficult to have fun whilst being upset, nagging, bitching, and wanting to kill the entire male species for their drunken-stoopid-aspiness-inspired misfortunes. So I let it slide eventually after realising that the man was just not comprehending. Add to that his drunken bedroom faux pas and you might begin to understand that the rest of the weekend was enjoyed (tolerated) through gritted teeth. I’m no longer sure which one of us I hate more.
SATURDAY
Sidekick, sporting another brand shiny new hangover must pick up his offspring. (have I given her a name yet?? –she shall be munky) this involves a bit of a drive which I had sworn to myself during the night, the girls and I would not take part in due to the man needing to be punished in any way possible. So, we went with to keep him company. (doormat!) Back home, now with munky in tow, we were free once more to pool laze and relax all to our little hearts content. Which was nice. Saturday night was taco’s, the robots movie and bed which all went to plan with minimum fuss, despite my children being absolutely foul after their whole rising-with-the-sun experience previously. They had not only been arguing regularly throughout the day, but also arguing about arguing and who started the arguing and who wanted to stop the arguing but couldn’t, because the other party insisted on arguing with them. Later, I forced sidekick to stay awake and watch a movie with me as part of his furthering punishment. There was another bedroom faux pas, this one I’m certain he is oblivious to and I didn’t have the energy to not-argue again. Sometimes it’s easier to just roll over and go to sleep to dream magical dreams about magical men possessing wonderful skills of thought, care, manners and proper training 
SUNDAY
More pool and then Lunch with the out-laws. And I call them the outlaws because they are not In-laws, not because they are interesting renegade-types or anything. Sister, brother-in-law, Crayon and Bobs (as my children have delightfully named them) Me, Trusty and the 3 chicks all together like one big happy family at an all-you-can-eat chain restaurant. Can you just hear my teeth grinding with absolute joy and rapture? 
It’s no secret that I’m a recluse and socially retarded at the best of times, but Sunday I was socially retarded at the worst of times. Due to aforementioned late nights / early mornings, some devouring of foods on my banned list, post-exertional malaise and whatever the heck else my body wanted to throw at me, I was feeling spooty to say the least. I know I have spoken ad nauseam about the effects of my said illnesses so I’ll try to wrap it up neatly in one little sentence for you in case you’re new – having any sort of fun, eating nice foods, and doing just about anything slightly physical leaves me feeling exhausted, sick, in pain and brain dead. Think of it as my brain and body shutting down and conserving all available energy for just the basics – breathing, heart beating etc. everything else becomes seemingly impossible. (ok so that was more than one sentence but, screw you, it’s my blog)
Needless to say, I sat at lunch feeling about as witty and talkative as a lump of play-dough. That and the fact that my entire appetite has recently disappeared altogether made me look like a real sulky party-pooper for sure. Usually I can pretend to be chatty and interesting, but this time I just didn’t have the energy. To top it off, Crayon sat between me and the children so I couldn’t quietly threaten to kill them every time they misbehaved or ate with their fingers, I had to get up out of my seat to do it – how tiring. And then Bobs stirred the children up causing them to misbehave further, their poorly formed minds not yet understanding that not all adults are good role models for civility and proper manners. Poking each other in the ribs is not my idea of fun. I’m not a huge fan of being touched by people that I don’t love dearly or at least know well. Not that I have anything against Crayon – she just reminds me enormously of a mother out-law I had previously, same mannerisms, speech, brrr it gives me chills of the bad sort. and I don’t want her to poke me in the ribs again. Ever. Bobs on the other hand gives me the straight up creeps, and I’m not ashamed to say it. I’m a big advocate for not trusting anyone until they’ve completely and utterly proven themselves and that comes from experience, mostly bad experience. Bobs is very hands-on with the children which to the outsider looks like fun and games, but to me (the highly cynical, suspicious and overly analytical), that sort of pushing, poking, tickling, touching looks very much like the sort that exists between twelve year old boys and girls. I’d just much rather that strangers didn’t touch my children, is that too much to ask?
Sunday afternoon … back to the pool I didn’t swim this time as I was concentrating very hard on being alive. I was having what I refer to fondly as a ‘bad day’ when my symptoms are a bit nasty and every movement and thought takes so much energy. It is very difficult to process thoughts, to make a thought actually come out as speech or to move, it really does feel as though my body is shutting down. I’m alive on the inside, but outside I look tired if not asleep, move sluggishly, feel faint and can’t think straight. It hurts and feels quite stupid too. I kept assuring the sidekick that I was ok, probably because
- I know he sticks his fingers in his ears and goes la-la-la if I say I feel sick and
- I couldn’t put into words how I was feeling even if I tried
After returning to the apartment, I took nurofen (mmm ibuprofen:) for the pain in order to survive the train trip home in relative peace. Titchy fell right to sleep on the train after eating her sandwiches (trusty made us sandwiches, reclaiming precious lost points, love and affection) I dozed on and off most of the way home too, Lil on the other hand did – her – homework – my jaw is still dropping in amazement. Those kids had such a busy weekend, so much swimming and Lil ‘n’ Munky were up really late Saturday night watching a movie, I really expected her to crash. she does have that whole aspie-anxiety thing though with a tremendous fear of getting into trouble in school. And this wasn’t any ordinary homework, it was the procedural text for her end of year assignment (I know, full on for year 6 huh?) I set her up on the lap top and dozed while she slowly one-finger-typed away. Now here’s the truly amazing bit cause I think that maybe she is secretly being one of those savant–type aspies! Lil’s assignment was to plan and build a simple machine, keeping a journal along the way then to present the machine and the procedural text on the due date. Her machine was built, but the journal was at home while we were on the train till 9 at night and she had to write up the procedural text from memory. I plugged in the lap top this morning to see if I could fix it up a bit for her, make it passable and lo-and-behold – it was freaking perfect! she had written it up word for word from her journal, steps 1thru18 of exactly how to build this machine and even with precise measurements – you will need two pieces of dowel 16cm long, a small block of wood 13×5cm, a longer plank measuring….and on and on and on it went!! although she’d left it till the last minute, I’m extremely impressed at her genious-ness and if she does not receive an A I shall boycott the whole entire school system and fire-bomb something innocuous.
So…this brings us to the here and now…
MONDAY
it was a weary start this morning after a busy weekend of swimming, lazing, arguing and brooding. My intestines are protesting my ill-treatment of them over the weekend. Did I ever tell you that Thyroid disease and IBS like to hold hands and play together? probably not, it’s not the sort of thing nice girls talk about. It is sad but true though. I am also still having a spooty-symptom-competition raging within me with weak legs being the odds-on favourite so far. I’m back on the coffee – I figured I’d done so much damage already that one little coffee wouldn’t hurt right? Turns out it was the straw that broke the camels back, so to speak, or the camels bowel. It was purely an impudent act of rebellion and self-harm, me being too gutless and/or lazy to kill myself, get a tattoo, take up smoking, get rolling drunk etc. coffee seemed just the right amount of mutiny and self-depreciation. I’m also still wondering today if the Trusty sidekick deserves more in the way of punishments for not properly denouncing his own poor form and have spent some of my time pondering the dire conclusion that the more time we spend together, the more sure I am that we shouldn’t live together. Fatalities may eventuate. Besides, his snippy remark about me leaving the wardrobe door open set us back years. Monday morning breakfast was spent fantasizing about making him go into work wearing a t-shirt reading
WOULD IT HAVE KILLED ME TO MAKE A PHONE CALL?
…for all to see.
btw, it may seem sad to some that I so openly reprimand the poor defenceless little sidekick here, for all the world (or 19 regulars and various drop-ins) to read. But really, when you think about it –as I have, I am doing him a favour. Instead of bitching and moaning in his ear, complaining and scheduling relentless grown-up talks about our relationship, I simply come here and purge all of my negative feelings and inner turmoil, vomiting my rage in a torrent of words and saving him from being bombarded with tears, talk and punching. You see I am very thoughtful – I’ll have you know I even gave trusty a very super-nice present on the weekend (despite his lack of due care and attention towards me) scrunched up in a brown paper bag on which I wrote “Dear trusty, you truly are the worstest boyfriend a girl could ever want etc etc etc, All my love, M.” see – I truthfully am a loving and caring human being.
Now, In good news…..
My ‘teamwork’ assignment came back today and I passed! I’ve passed everything else so far, but this one in particular had me nervous – what the frick do I know about teamwork and working well with others? I’m a grumpy emotional engineer who just doesn’t like many people and can’t tolerate pointless small talk. This assignment was difficult for me to write because I just couldn’t get into the flow of essay writing with the subject matter, yet found point-form information too restrictive. The result? –I wrote it ‘me’ style as in, me-writing-in-my-blog style! I sent it off very nervously, wondering if I would fail for being openly weird or insane, sure that at the very least there would be notes made about my use of ‘humour’ innuendo, glib sarcasm, frivolous self-depreciation, and that my writing ‘style’ might easily be mistaken for being cheeky or not taking things seriously, y’know, teamwork in the education field and all that jazz
I opened the envelope and saw the ‘J’ on the front page –phew! -a pass. The comment sheet said ‘please read page 6-7’ though which made my stomach immediately begin to churn and I nearly sharted with worry as I cringed at the thought of what said comments may contain in the way of chastisement and correction.
So, here’s the kicker – not only did I pass, I got ticks, multiple double ticks, a smiley face and assorted positive feedback!! the whole paragraph of comments which threatened to make me vomit, was actually all positive AND – I shit you not – contained such colourful praise as “great attitude”, “fabulous example “, “I really enjoy your writing”, “obvious and thorough understanding” and… wait for it … “you really made my day!” Woo-fricking-hoo!! I am so pleased that I am passing my subjects whilst simultaneously entertaining my tutors!
I shall leave you on that note, like a man out on a boozy work do, i leave you wondering when oh when i shall return…..
m:)
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